


Eyes Like Stars

by InTheArmsofaThief



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Banshee Lydia Martin, Demons, Feudalism, Fox Stiles, Kitsune Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Wolf Derek, all of them and none of them, idk what time period or country this is set in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-07 21:40:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11067675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheArmsofaThief/pseuds/InTheArmsofaThief
Summary: “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said indignantly.  “And don’t think you can try anything on me.  It won’t work.”  Stiles had been attacked by his own kind before.  Stiles wasn’t necessarily strong, but unbridled.  And nothing ever seemed to really hurt him.When the Okami stepped out, it wasn’t what Stiles had been expecting.  The wolf was an actual wolf.  His sleek black fur was hit by rays of the setting sun, his eyes glistened like rubies and his teeth were sharp.  Sharp enough Stiles wondered if they could actually damage him.“Kira said the village lost all its protectors,” Stiles mused.  “Yet here you are.”  The wolf growled again.  Stiles scoffed.  “I don’t blame you for abandoning them.  Wouldn’t want to protect them either.”





	1. The Fox of the Valley

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shiny4LoVe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiny4LoVe/gifts).



> This is a fic for the Sterek Reverse Bang 2017! I got to work off the artwork made by the absolutely lovely [thealphasspark](http://thealphasspark.com/) to create this story.
> 
> [Check out the Tumblr Post!](http://thealphasspark.com/post/161759734952/eyes-like-stars-general-audiences-10889)

Stiles had never met the wolf on the mountain.  Foxes and wolves tended to avoid each other, and Stiles had been run out of his father’s village when he was still a kit.  When his mother died, he lost the only protector the humans would listen to.  His father had been Chief and even he couldn’t turn the Lord’s opinion.  His father had chosen to come with him, of course.  He was a good man.  But he was also, unlike Stiles’s mother, a human.

Stiles returned now, so many years later he wonders if his memory is wrong or if things truly had changed this much.  “They lost all their protectors, Stiles,” Kira reminded him.  “Of course, it’s changed.”

He looked away from the village, decrepit and dark, and up to the stormy mountains.  The sky itself was tense with shadows.  “I don’t understand.”  He remembered the mountain as a safe place.  It was warm and full of life.  His mother had spoken of their neighbors with fondness and respect.  Stiles couldn’t believe the Okami had fallen so far in his absence. 

“What happened to the wolves?” Stiles asked. 

“Humans,” Kira replied.

Stiles had not asked why Kira wanted to go on this journey.  She was from the thunder clan to the east, and it was not uncommon for kitsune to wander as if pulled by a mysterious source.  They were servants of a higher power, Noshiko the clan leader, had always said.  The earth would tell them where they were needed.  There were many distinct types of kitsune, to fit into the land of any village that needed their protection, Noshiko would say.  Except for Stiles.  Stiles was not needed.  He would never feel the pull of a higher power to protect.  He had all the powers with none of the intent, which is what made him dangerous.  But Kira was being pulled to his home and she asked Stiles along for the journey.  He would not deny her his company.

“Here,” Kira said, reaching up to fix Stiles’s mask.  She tugged it over his eyes and tightened the straps.  Her eyes looked sad as she shook the long nose of the fox mask to make sure it was secure.  Then she smiled and slipped on her own.

He hated the masks.  It was the condition of the thunder clan when they took him in.  He may not be bound by the same rules, but he would still follow them.  As a roaming kitsune, one not governing any singular village, he had to wear the mask in the presence of humans.  He would never govern a village, so he would always wear a mask. 

His was black.  The clan knew what that meant, but humans didn’t seem to understand why he was different than the others.  Kira’s was white.  Yellow markings denoting that she was a thunder kitsune.  The red markings on his own mask were to denote his mother’s breed rather than his own.  He was a mere spark compared to the burning sun his mother had once been.

As they made their way closer to the village, Stiles felt unease settle into his chest.  These weren’t the people who had made him flee.  They were all dead by now.  Their descendants surely held similar beliefs.  A farm house on the outskirts of the village was dilapidated, signs of a long-ago fire still clinging to its wood.  There were people inside, whispering, although he could not hear what.

Kira stopped and turned to the old home.  Even with her face covered, Stiles could tell she was smiling.  “It’s okay,” she told the people.  “I am who you called for.”

Stiles knew in that moment that he was going to lose Kira.  Not in the way he had lost his mother or his father, or even his village, but he was going to lose her all the same.  Stiles hung back, silent and still despite the thrum under his skin to yell and run.  He was never meant to be what he is, but he promised Noshiko he would follow her rules.  Kira talked to the children who were living in the old farm house and Stiles knew she would take over this territory as her own.

He observed how the children huddled together.  The smallest reached out for Kira’s hand and then refused to let go. 

“Are you monsters?” she asked.

“No, little one,” Kira told her, “we are here to help.”

It took a bit before Kira could glean the situation out of them and got the little girl, Hayden, to let go of her hand.  Stiles waited outside.  He stared up at the mountain, not wanting to look at the village.  He didn’t like being back here.

“Summer’s coming, and it needs a good rain,” Kira told him.  She motioned for him to follow as she continued further into the village.  “They seemed afraid.”

Stiles nodded.  The children hadn’t tried to talk to him, but it was clear it wasn’t only his presence that made them uneasy.  “I don’t smell any demons.”

“That’s the problem, Stiles,” Kira chided.  She tilted her head to the side as she looked at him.  He wished he could see her face.  “You left.”

“You can’t blame this on me,” he seethed, a sudden anger flaring up inside his chest.  “I had no choice.”

Her shoulders sagged and she shook her head, long strands of her ink black hair catching in the wind with her movements.  “I don’t blame you.  But look around, Stiles.” 

The further they made it into the village the more obvious the people’s struggles.  It made him uncomfortable.  “Why did you insist I come here with you?” he asked quietly. 

“I don’t know,” she told him truthfully, if not a bit sadly.  “I didn’t want to say goodbye yet.  I thought it might be good for you to find closure with your birthplace.  I was afraid of going by myself.” 

Stiles reached out, not knowing if he was seeking comfort or giving it.  Just before his hand would have rested on Kira’s arm, he twisted back, blown by a force.  He looked down and saw an arrow embedded into his bicep.  Stiles’s eyes quickly narrowed onto the human girl on a rooftop, bow still held from the arrow’s release. 

“Did you just shoot me?” he laughed, anger swelling inside of him.  He looked back to Kira.  “And this is where you plan to nest.”

“Stiles,” Kira said, the worry lacing her voice only angering him more.

Stiles yanked out the arrow, the flesh wound healing instantly.  “Perhaps I should pin her down with her own arrow.”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Kira snapped. “She’s a child.”

“Stay away from her!” the girl shouted from her spot a few meters away as she drew another arrow.  “I know what your dark mask means.” 

Stiles turned his back on the huntress.  “Old enough to hunt, old enough to breed.  You’re not dealing with a child, you’re dealing with a human, the same ones who rid this town of their protectors.”

“Stiles,” Kira said for a third time, her voice changed again to something desperate, pleading. 

“I’ll come back tonight,” he told her with a wave, heading back where they came.  “Make sure you haven’t been shot down.”

“She doesn’t know better,” Kira told him.  Stiles only adjusted his mask and then ran.  He was at the foot of the mountain outside the village in a blink. 

It was nearing nightfall when Stiles felt him.  He had only made it halfway up the mountain, thick trees obscuring the view of the village below.  Stiles had hoped to explore more before returning to Kira’s side, but there was a thrill in knowing he’d get to finally meet the Okami. 

Stiles stilled in his travels, waiting between the trees for the wolf to come to him.  He could sense the wolf, like eyes on his back, but there was nothing else. 

“You can come out,” Stiles told the wind. 

A low growl rang through the woods.  Without words the Okami had managed to tell him to get out.  The growl carried with it the word _trespasser_ like the darkest warning.  Stiles didn’t know whether to be afraid.  He had never come across another demon who hadn’t treated him with scorn.  _They_ were the ones afraid, so they lashed out at him.  But there was something in that growl that put Stiles on edge.  This was a demon that had thrown aside fear and replaced it with hate.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said indignantly.  “And don’t think you can try anything on me.  It won’t work.”  Stiles had been attacked by his own kind before.  Stiles wasn’t necessarily strong, but unbridled.  And nothing ever seemed to really hurt him. 

When the Okami stepped out, it wasn’t what Stiles had been expecting.  The wolf was an actual wolf.  His sleek black fur was hit by rays of the setting sun, his eyes glistened like rubies and his teeth were sharp.  Sharp enough Stiles wondered if they could actually damage him.

“Kira said the village lost all its protectors,” Stiles mused.  “Yet here you are.”  The wolf growled again.  Stiles scoffed.  “I don’t blame you for abandoning them.  Wouldn’t want to protect them either.”

In a movement so quick, not even Stiles’s speed could have gotten him away, the wolf slipped into a human state and crowded him against a tree.  His face was too close.  Through the eyes of the mask, he couldn’t see more than the glowing red that only shined brighter as the sunlight faded away.  The growl that left the wolf’s throat could be felt against Stiles’s chest and for the first time since his mother died he felt true fear.

“Get out,” the wolf spat. 

“Get over yourself,” Stiles snapped instinctively.  He was trapped and he was always known to lash out.  Stiles didn’t think Noshiko’s rules mattered much in this moment.  This was an Okami not a human.  Besides, the wolf started it. 

“This is my mountain,” the wolf said. 

“This is nothing,” Stiles smirked.  The wolf shoved him into the tree.  Stiles winced.  “What?  Big bad wolf can’t use his words?” 

“You shouldn’t be here.”  His voice was deeper, but somehow not as threatening as it came out before.  “This land is cursed.”

Stiles snorted.  “I am a curse,” he told the wolf.  “And the land has no control over me.”

The wolf pulled his head back, just far enough that Stiles could get a clearer picture.  His red eyes flashed in the last moments of the sun.  Heavy shadows cut across his sharp cheeks and square jaw.  A rugged beard made him look wild and his maw of canines promised pain. 

“Then you have even more reason to leave,” the wolf said. 

He jerked his head, looking to the distance.  A moment later, Stiles caught the sound of footsteps creeping through the underbrush.  The wolf backed away, paying Stiles no more mind before slipping seamlessly into his pelt and disappearing between the shadows of the forest. 

Running away.

Stiles looked up between the canopy of leaves.  The sky was almost completely dark now and he had promised to return to Kira.  Whoever was making their way through the forest was trained to be silent, but no one besides another demon could stay under his radar.  A hunter, like the girl.

He climbed up into the thick of the trees and silently traveled a path above the forest floor.  He found her in moments, an older girl with curls like the young hunter, but the color of wheat.  Her eyes were like steel and Stiles smirked.  Humans.  He raced passed her without a second thought.  It was time to return to Kira.

“After your father left, the Lord hired a clan of hunters to protect all of his land.  The Argents,” Kira told him.  “I’m unsure how many generations have passed but it’s as if they control the land now, the Lord a puppet to their hand.”

Stiles listened to her with half an ear, methodically picking petals off a wildflower.  He didn’t care.  He didn’t want to care.  He couldn’t stop thinking about the wolf on the mountain.

“Allison put together the call for me under the nose of her parentage.”

“Who?” Stiles asked, squinting up at the mountain, trying to find movement under the stars even at this distance.

“The girl who shot you,” Kira said sullenly.  “She sends her apologies.  I explained that you were a friend.  Still, you ought to be more careful.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and lay down, fixing his sight on the constellations.  “She can’t hurt me.”

“Doesn’t mean you should get needlessly shot.”

Stiles waved her off and Kira sighed before picking up her story again.

“Allison is being groomed to take over the Argent clan, but she doesn’t agree with their practices.  She claims her ancestors were the ones to cleanse the land from demons, but if the land were truly cleansed, it would be fruitful.”

Stiles snorted.  “There are plenty of lands without guardians that thrive.”  Stiles had stayed at a large number of them over the years he spent roaming with his father.  With no guardians, there was no one to keep him out.  He did his best not to do damage and leave before his nature got the better of him.

 “It still stands,” Kira continued, “she’s recognized the problem and has sought a solution.”

“I met the wolf,” he said, sitting back up.  “He’s as good as a wild animal.  He’s the only one left, I can smell it.  It was a whole clan that used to live up there,” he told her.  “This little archer is trying too late to right a wrong.”

Kira crossed her arms.  “These people are starving, Stiles.  Their sovereigns have abandoned them and–”

“And they’ve abandoned their gods!”

“No!” She snapped, pushing a static fueled hand against his chest.  “Their ancestors have.  The people who promised to protect them have.  These people, those children,” Kira pointed back towards the broken-down building where the three young ones were sleeping, “they haven’t done anything except be born here.  It is our duty–”

“It is _your_ duty,” Stiles reminded her.  “I shouldn’t have come back.”  He jumped to his feet, tightening his mask. 

“Stiles,” Kira said, all in one asking him to be reasonable, to calm down, to stay.

Stiles didn’t want to be here.  But, as much as Noshiko’s clan had become his home, he didn’t want to return their either.  His birthplace had released something in him, an itch under his skin that he didn’t know how to reach.

It worried him.  


	2. The Wolf of the Mountain

After running away from Kira (and he was ashamed to call it running away, but it was true), Stiles needed to find a place to rest.  He had finally cooled down enough to take stock of where he was.  Stiles had headed back to the mountain, not wanting to be anywhere near the village.  It was late, but he didn’t feel like sleeping.  He didn’t need sleep as much as humans, although Stiles often over extended how long he stayed awake. 

Stiles was debating where the best place to take a nap would be.  Sometimes he slept in trees but often times he fell out.  Kira said grace was the one kitsune power he hadn’t gotten, although truthfully she wasn’t much better outside of a fight.  There was a sturdy looking branch, but Stiles thought he remembered a cave a bit further.  He hated caves though.  Dark and wet and the ground often hurt.  One day, Stiles vowed, he would build himself a house like the one he had as a kit before his mother died.  He hated roughing it when away from the Clan.   

He was just about to jump up when he caught the scent of the female hunter from before.  It was surprising that she was still out here, hours later.  Stiles would have guessed her hunt was nearing its end as the night fell, but perhaps she was going after animals that were easier to find in the dark.  There were lots of raccoon dogs in the area.  Perhaps even a leopard, if she were skilled enough to find one.  Although it was rare they ventured this close to any villages. 

Then Stiles heard the growl.  He hadn’t been able to catch the scent because it permeated the whole mountain.  The Okami was as much a part of this land as the trees and the moss and the worms and the deer.  Kira had told him the reason the village was in dire need of assistance.  They had lost all their protectors.  They had _rid themselves_ of their own protectors.  She had known it was the humans.  Somehow, before ever speaking with Allison, Kira knew the situation here.  Maybe it came from whatever divine power bound kitsunes to find their calling.  Stiles would never know.  What he did know was that he was foolish for not connecting it sooner.

The woman was here to hunt the wolf.

They hadn’t simply chased away the Okami Clan like they had banished Stiles.  They were crueler than he had wanted to believe. 

Before thinking too much about it, Stiles was racing after the site of altercation.  The wolf was trapped in the cave Stiles had remembered from earlier.  The woman was outside, bow drawn.  Whatever fight they had already endured, she was left with a slow bleeding gash on her cheek.  Her sword, that had been dropped a bit back, was painted red.   The moment Stiles had assessed what was happening, the blonde hunter released her bowstring.

Stiles jumped in front of it, back to the woman, and let the arrow pierce his shoulder.  He wouldn’t have any luck in catching it, but her arrows wouldn’t harm him like they would the wolf.  He turned to her, eyes flashing behind his mask.

“Oh, I get to kill two demons tonight.  How lucky,” the woman laughed.  She was rattled at his appearance despite her bravado.  The hunter didn’t have many arrows left and she didn’t dare turn to grab her sword.

Calmly, Stiles pulled the arrow from his shoulder.  “You won’t have anything on you that can cause me harm,” Stiles told her, anger lacing his words. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure, fox,” she spat.  “That arrow is tipped with poison.”

“Meant for a wolf,” he told her, twirling the shaft between his fingers.  “You’re not the first Argent I’ve come across.”  When Kira had told him who took over his father’s position, Stiles had remembered running into the family during his younger years.  They were all the same.  “The tricks you’ve passed down only work against sovereign spirits.”  Stiles toyed with the idea of tossing the arrow back to her.  He could pierce her shoulder.  It wouldn’t kill her, which might be enough of a loop hole to prevent Noshiko from kicking him out of the clan.  “They don’t work against the real threats to you.”  He tossed the arrow, deliberately letting it miss.  Mostly.  The arrowhead slice a matching gash on her other cheek, much smaller of course.  An arrow was nothing to a claw.  It imbedded into a tree behind her with a heavy thud.  “They won’t work against me.”

The hunter took a step back, jaw clenched in fury but fear pulsing through her veins.

“Go,” he told her, “before I get bored with you.”

“This isn’t over,” the hunter woman said with a sneer.  She raced for her blade and dashed off.

Stiles waited until he was certain she wasn’t coming back before heading into the cave.  The wolf was in his human form, holding onto a bloody hole in his stomach.  Black veins leeched out from the wound and Stiles knew he had to find some wolfsbane for the infection. 

“I didn’t need your help,” the wolf growled.

Stiles laughed.  “You keep telling yourself that.”  He left to find the purple flower.  There was lots of it on the mountain, so it didn’t take him long.  He was back in the cave before the wolf could even get himself seated upright.  “Why do you surround yourself with this?” he asked.  It seemed counterproductive to have your greatest poison everywhere you lived.

Stiles burnt the flower in his hand, what little power that transferred from his mother enough for that party trick. 

“Quick access to medicine,” the wolf snapped as Stiles shoved the ashes into his stomach wound.  Stiles didn’t believe him.

“Fine, don’t tell me.”  Stiles watched the wolf steady his breaths as the black veins receded.  He was quite handsome, even with all the blood.  “What’s your name?”

The wolf gave him a withering look before sitting up straighter.  “Why should I tell a man in a mask trespassing in my territory anything about me?”

“Well, I did just save your life.”

“I would have been fine,” the wolf spat.  “If you were really going to help, you should have killed her.”

“Perhaps,” Stiles sighed.  “But I hate to live up to people’s expectations of me.”  Stiles sat across from the wolf and looked out the cave’s mouth.  “Although, now that she’s seen me, the Argent’s will redouble their efforts to rid the mountain of dark spirits.”

“What are you?” the wolf asked, sizing him up like a threat for the first time.

Stiles tilted his head to the side, trying to figure out how this wolf _didn’t_ recognize Stiles’s nature.  “How long ago was it that you lost your pack?  My mother knew them.”

The wolf growled.  “I will not tell a masked man my story.”

“Well now I’m not going to take it off until you ask nicely,” Stiles scoffed.  He didn’t like the underlying threat in the wolf’s voice.  “Besides, you’re in no position to be making demands.”

“I’m almost healed.  I could take you.”

“Could you?” Stiles laughed.  Perhaps.  Other demons were often afraid of him, but strong protectors were supposed to be protectors against all things, including creatures like himself.  This wolf was strong, a testament to how long he’s survived against the Argents.  But if he wasn’t protecting anyone but himself, where did his power even stem from?

There was a moment between them, soft and silent as the night breeze chilled their skin. 

“Derek,” the wolf said.

Stiles smiled behind his mask.  “Stiles.”

Derek frowned, glaring at the black and red face Stiles wore.  “If you’ve doubled the Argent’s anger, you owe me at least your face.”

Stiles laughed.  “If you insist.”  He reached up to untie the lace at the base of his skull but stilled and looked back outside.  “There’s someone coming.”

Derek was on his feet in seconds despite the obvious pain from his slow healing wound. 

A shadow fell over the mouth of the cave, but it wasn’t the hunter woman.  It wasn’t even human.  Stiles smelled another wolf. 

“So you’re the wolf with blue eyes,” the new wolf called, a challenge. 

Stiles looked back to Derek, confused.  Derek had red eyes, but the taunt had him shifting. 

“Get off my land!” Derek roared before fully sprouting his pelt.  He charged the new wolf, tangling in a fight without hesitation. 

Stiles raced outside, watching the two red-eyed wolves attack each other.  Something was familiar about the new wolf.  His warm brown and white coat had two rings around his front leg in a deeper black fur.  It was a noticeable birthmark of the Delgado clan, nomadic wolves of the south. 

“Scott?” 

The new wolf yelped and pulled back, quickly turning back into his man form.  The two dark rings still wrapped around his arm.  “Stiles?”

Derek shifted back and turned on Stiles.  “You know this filth?”

“Filth!” Scott snapped.  “I’m not the one killing townsfolk.”

“I’ve killed no one,” Derek snapped, “although I will admit they deserved the deaths they got.”

Stiles rolled his eyes.  “Will both of you calm down and talk this out like the higher beings we are?”  Stiles didn’t actually have much faith in any type of being having the maturity to solve conflicts without fighting, but he was tired and bored by their antics already.  If they settled whatever weird dispute this was quickly, perhaps Stiles could grab some sleep before sunrise.

“Scott, what are you doing here?” Stiles asked.

They had run into each other the first time after Stiles had joined the thunder clan.  He was traveling with Noshiko to learn about what a kitsune’s duties were when they came across the roaming Okami.  It was rare for wolves to not be attached to a land, rarer than foxes.  But the Delgado pack had always been nomadic.  They were healers who went where they were needed. 

“I ran into a banshee.  She told me this place needed an alpha.  The wolves meant to save the town were killing it instead,” Scott snarled.

“The town is killing itself,” Derek snapped. “They deserve everything that has come to them.”

Stiles reluctantly agreed, although he didn’t speak up.  Scott was too quick to jump in with his anger and disgust.  He was a healer and there was a lot of work to do in this village.  “It’s your fault they’re in such despair.”

“Look around, Scott!” Derek snapped, saying the younger wolf’s name like a barb to the throat.  “Look at all the wolfsbane and tell me they do not deserve to starve.”

Scott paused.  He was stubborn and untrusting yet he took a moment to, glancing from side to side.  “What does that have to do-”

“Have you never lost a pack member?” Derek sneered.  “Wolfsbane only grows where one of us has died.  This entire mountain is now the grave of my family.  And you dare claim it is my fault they are broken and desperate when they are the ones to kill us?”

Stiles felt shaken to the core.  It wasn’t something he had known before, and Scott was nomadic; if one of Scott’s pack had fallen he wouldn’t have stayed long enough to see the flowers grow.  Those purple flowers were everywhere.

“Maybe I _should_ have killed the hunter woman,” Stiles mused bitterly.

“Stiles!” Scott snapped, conflicted betrayal causing his jaw to go slack.  “You told me you don’t kill.  I trusted you on that.”

“I don’t.  But maybe I should,” he grimaced.  Stiles had killed only once, a feat for his long life.  It was in self-defense.  He was still young and much more vulnerable.  His father was there to guide him out of his guilt, but also to make sure it didn’t happen again. Stiles hated that everyone saw him as a monster.  When he and Scott had first met, Scott had always been on his side.  He believed him instantly that Stiles wouldn’t hurt anyone.  “Not everyone deserves saving, Scott.  And not only demons are monsters.”

Scott shook his head.  “Once you start thinking that way, that is when you become the monster.”

Stiles scoffed.  “You’ve grown wiser, I suppose.”

“And you’ve grown wilder.”

Stiles longed for their past, when they had been friends free to run around despite their differences.  Wolves and foxes didn’t mix well, but Stiles was an anomaly and Scott was too kind for his own good.

“Get off my mountain,” Derek snarled.  “Both of you.”

Scott stood his ground, flashing his red eyes.  “I am taking over this mountain.  Regardless of their sins, I cannot ignore the warning of a banshee.  This is my territory now.”

“What right do you have over my family’s grave?”

“What right do you have to stay in a place where you can’t be what you are?” Scott countered softly, steady but softer than before.  “We’re supposed to be protectors.  Yet you’ve let these people die.”

“We only protect those who deserve it,” Derek said, pulling his hand from the wound on his side.  He showed Scott the blood.  “Do they deserve it?”

Stiles thought back to the children sleeping in the burned house and to Allison who was trying to find a way to save them.  He blamed Kira for his softness now.  “The children can’t be blamed for their ancestors,” Stiles admitted with a sigh.  “If anything, they need to be protected from the poison of those hunters as much as you do.”  He looked to Derek where the wound was only just finishing to knit together. 

“I don’t need protection, I need revenge.”

“Then why haven’t you taken it?” Stiles threw back. 

“He killed townsfolk already,” Scott said.

“No,” Derek insisted.  “That was my uncle.  He went on a spree against the hunters who killed his children.  Died in the fight.  I’m the last.”

“Then why are your eyes blue, under that red?” Scott asked with suspicion. 

“A story for another time,” Derek said.  “Now get off my mountain.”

“The Argents have been demon hunters for a thousand years,” Stiles said, watching the night sky begin to lighten.  Perhaps he would sleep tomorrow.  “Over that time, they’ve lost sight of who they’re fighting.”  He laughed, remembering the hunter woman’s attempt at his life.  “They’ve even forgot how to kill my kind!  They’d be useless if a real threat came to the village.  Now they’re the threat.”  Stiles looked between the two wolves who were still on edge, hints in the stance of their bodies screaming they were ready to pounce.  “The _threat_ is what needs to be eliminated, Scott.”

“I’m not going to let you kill humans, no matter what humans they may be,” Scott said. 

“A young hunter called my friend here.  Perhaps you, too,” Stiles said to Scott.  “The Banshee may have heard Allison’s plea for help and sent you.  I can’t know for certain, but someone here _is_ trying to fix things.  You go protect by the hunter’s side, find why you’re here.  But leave us be.”

“There is no us,” Derek reminded him.

“Fine.  I didn’t want to get involved anyway.”  Stiles slipped into the shadows before they disappeared by the morning light.  It was little more than a parlor trick, but Stiles could hide himself from most any eye.

“Stiles!” Scott shouted.  “I always hated it when he does that.”

Stiles would go back to the village, give Kira his goodbyes, and not look back.  They didn’t need him here, nor did they want him.  And Stiles had no good reason to get invested.  He looked over to Derek, hating the stubborn wolf. 

“I’m sorry about your pack,” Scott told Derek.  “Perhaps mine is nomadic so that we can always find those who need our help most, while you’ve been here with humans who didn’t deserve what you could offer.  Even still, I can’t let this continue.”

“Go then,” Derek said, turning his back to Scott in a cocky dismissal.  “Join the village.  But leave me alone.”

After a tense moment, Scott left and Derek headed back into his cave.  Stiles watched them both until he was alone outside Derek’s den.  He should head back to the village.  He should check on Kira.  He didn’t trust this Allison despite Kira’s claims to her good nature.  Although, he did trust Scott to help if anything was going wrong.  Even still, Stiles should return to Kira’s side and make sure she wasn’t taking on more than she could handle.

Stiles stepped out of the shadows and into Derek’s cave. 

“What do you want?” Derek sighed, gathering what little he had kept in this den. 

He didn’t want anything, at least, not that he could put to words.  “My mother loved your family.  She spoke of them often,” Stiles said.  “I never met the wolves of the mountain.  After I was born, your family forbade my mother from visiting with me and promised that if she didn’t keep me in control, they would step in.  My mother found this an acceptable agreement for being able to raise me, until she died, that is.  I never understood how she got sick, although it was likely the Argents, pulling the strings to rid the village of me even when my father had been Chief.”

“Your father?”

“Was human,” Stiles admitted before reaching for his mask.  “Don’t tear my throat out, okay?”

He slipped of the black fox mask he wore in front of those outside of Noshiko’s clan.  Derek wasn’t a human, so it wasn’t violating her terms, but he still rarely showed himself to someone who wasn’t a fellow kitsune. 

Derek gasped softly.  “You’re a Yako.”

It was his eyes that marked Stiles as a wild fox, a kitsune of the void.  The mask hid them with its darkness.  The golden brown of his irises were surrounded by a black as dark as the night sky.  Both of them were demons, but only one was a monster.   


	3. The Chief of the Village

Stiles never wanted to step foot in his birth village.  He was young the last time he was here, young even by human standards.  When he and Kira had approached, he could see how it had fallen to ruin in the centuries that had past.  He had followed Kira in the first time, Allison’s arrow a good enough excuse to turn around.  This time, he had to make his way in alone.

It was well into the day when Stiles finally made his way back to the village, but he didn’t go farther than the burnt down house the three children were squatting in.  He sat and waited for Kira.  He would tell her goodbye.  He would tell her good luck.  He would tell her he didn’t think he could do this anymore and he would tell her he’s sorry.

While he waited, the three orphans played.  Humans were always such trusting foolish things when they were this small.  They had already forgotten their fear of him.  One of the children crawled into his lap and Stiles looked down, amused.

“What are you doing?” he asked the dark-skinned boy.  Mason, if Stiles remembered correctly.

 “Are you sad?” Mason asked.  “My mom told me when other people are sad we should hug them.”

Stiles looked over to the other children.  Hayden had her eyes closed as the other boy searched for a hiding place.  Stiles wondered how they fed themselves.  Pilfered goods from the already starving farms, no doubt.  They would have no other choice, at this age, unless someone took them in.

“I’m not sad,” Stiles told the boy.  “But I’m about to be on my own again.”

“Why?”

Stiles had been these children, once.  Nowhere to call home, taking care of the only family he had as best he could.  Stiles wondered how long he could have survived if they hadn’t found Noshiko’s clan.  He wondered how long these children would survive, even with Kira’s stay in the community.

Liam came barreling out of his hiding place before Hayden even stopped counting.  “Something’s wrong!” he screeched.  “I was on the roof.  Down in the village.  There were arrows in the sky.”

Stiles displaced Mason as gently as he could while jumping to his feet.  If there was an altercation, Kira would be in the middle of it.  And the Argent clan had made their fortune from killing creatures like her.  “Stay here,” he told the children.  “It’s not safe.”

He left before hearing their protests.  They would follow if they wanted to, but he didn’t have time to try and convince them otherwise. 

Lightning broke out across the clear blue sky and Stiles ran faster. 

The village was in chaos.  People were cowering inside.  Men and women, in garb not unlike those worn by Allison and the blonde from the mountain, patrolled the streets and rooftops with their arrows nocked.  Only the growing shadows of the early afternoon kept Stiles hidden.  He traveled through the darkness until he could find the epicenter of the fight.

A lot had passed in the time Stiles spent away from Kira.  He knew the Argents wouldn’t welcome her presence, but he hadn’t thought anything of this magnitude would break out so quickly.  Allison and a tall boy with mousy curls flanked Kira.  She was bleeding from an arrow to the shoulder and her skin crackled with lightning.  Across from them was a large slew of hunters.  The blonde who had been hunting Derek was at the forefront next to an older man.

It was a different trinket he wore, but the symbol was the same.  The old man was the Chief.  He waxed poetic about purifying the world, how his own granddaughter was betraying him, seduced by the devils who would strike them dead.

“You’re sick,” Allison cried, tears streaming down her cheeks.  Her carefully crafted persona was breaking.  This wasn’t the battle-hardened archer who had shot him the day before.  This was a scared little girl trying to do the right thing.

Stiles searched for Scott.  He had to be around here somewhere, the wolf was too stubborn to run off at the danger.  He found Scott, huddled behind a shed with a member of the Argents.  They spoke in harsh whispers.  Stiles dropped behind them before stepping out of the shadows.

“Want to fill me in on what’s going on?” Stiles asked, as even toned as possible.  Both Scott and the human hunter jumped and spun to face him.  It was satisfying.  The man reached for a weapon, but Scott jutted his arm out to still him. 

“Nothing?” Stiles snarled.  “Because my friend is bleeding and I’ve been in this godforsaken town for too long as it is.  Unless you want me to level the entire village –”

“Stiles!” Scott snapped.  “Calm down.”

“I am perfectly calm,” Stiles said.  “But I am also two seconds from letting loose.  What.  Is.  Happening.”

Stiles spared a look at the man Scott was with.  Something about the eyes reminded Stiles of his father for the barest moment.  He was shaking at the sight of Stiles.  Spooked.  He recognizes a real threat, Stiles thought.  He realizes he’s never seen one before.

“My daughter,” the man choked out.  “My daughter traveled, recently.  Part of her training to take over as Chief meant she had to be worldly.  She came back months ago, claiming we had it all wrong.  We were the reasons the town was failing, not the demons.  My father wouldn’t hear it.  When he learned Allison had brought you creatures here.” The man swallowed thickly around tearful words.  “He’s trying to kill my baby girl.  He’s convincing the entire town that she’s a devil herself.”

Stiles had seen it done before.  Humans were gullible things that needed things to believe in, even if what they believed wasn’t correct.  A false devil gives humans a sense of control.  A real god gives them nothing but help and they’ll still label it a devil if things turn sour.  Humans were a poison unto themselves.

He turned to Scott, anger boiling under his skin.  “You see now why these people don’t need protection?  They’re doing this to themselves.”

“Allison needs protection,” Scott countered.  “The villagers, afraid in their homes, being accosted by a protection racket government.  The children left behind from this destruction.  They need us.”

“Then what are you going to do?” Stiles asked.  He was running out of patience.  He could hear the elder Chief on his tirade against Kira.  “Does he know about you?”

“No,” Chris said.  “Scott came in after Allison had introduced Kira to us all.  The whole town was on high alert when I ran into him.  Thought he was the loner still on the mountain.”

“He’s not coming to help anyone,” Scott spat.  “But I’m here.”

“What can you even do?” Stiles snorted.  “You’re a healer not a fighter.”

“I’m still a wolf.”  Scott’s teeth sharpened in his mouth. 

Stiles rolled his eyes, an expression that went unappreciated under his mask.  “And you?” He turned to the human.  “What do you have to offer this fight?”

The answer was simply, a plan.

Stiles ran to Derek, knowing he had little time to convince him to come with him. 

When Stiles had shown Derek his eyes, the wolf had been confused, angry, defensive.  What little trust had built between them was instantly torn down. 

Stiles explained how he was born in this village and chased out after his mother died.  His father never said, but she was most likely poisoned.  He remembered her being so strong, a light in the town, a beacon of hope to the villagers that they would live through the winter and have a good harvest.  Some villagers said it was his cursed birth that killed his mother, something he believed for too long.  However, with the knowledge that the Argents took over as Chiefs and protection, it only adds to his suspicion of her death.  They had been killing peaceful sovereigns for generations.    

Stiles was surprised that Derek let Stiles tell his story.  When he was finished, Derek sat in silence for so long Stiles almost left.  That’s when Derek explained why Scott had called him the wolf with blue eyes.  His uncle _was_ the one Scott had heard about, that was killing villagers.  Apparently, wolves’ eyes turn from gold to blue if they take human life.  The red denoted a position of power among the pack, a leader.  As Derek was the only one left, he had the eyes of an alpha.  But before they had turned red, they were blue. 

Derek had befriended a village girl, years and year and years ago.  The attacks on his family were still new and the town’s opinion was divided.  This girl, Paige, trusted the wolves.  She trusted Derek.  She traveled up the mountain to leave her offerings weekly.  The hunters shot her.  Just enough damage to let her die a slow death.  Derek took her life so she wouldn’t suffer.

They did that, he explained.  The hunters turned him into a killer.  They turned him against them.

Stiles and Derek parted ways with a heavy silence between them. 

Now, Stiles returned, needing to know that the tentative balance they found in that silence could be forged into something stronger. 

“What?” Derek growled, stepping out of the cave he called a home. 

Stiles didn’t let silence fill between them this time.  “You want revenge.  You want revenge, you need to know the people who are hunting you will never hunt you or your kind again.  But a part of you is still that young Okami with gold eyes. You’re still an alpha, a leader.  You’re still someone who feels a call to help those who need it, who deserve it.”

“What do you want, Stiles?” he snarled through sharp teeth.

“I was wrong.  I wanted this town to suffer for what they’ve done to me, but there are people here who are just as afraid and destroyed by the Argents as any demon they’ve hunted.  I can smell it when I’m down there.  I need your help.  My friend is hurt and her only help right now is Scott and the few hunters who are leading a revolt.  You help me,” Stiles said, offering ever part of himself for this deal, “and you get your revenge while still protecting those who need protecting.”  He swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat.  “You help me, and you never have to hear from me again.”

He didn’t understand why that felt so heavy in his heart, why this strange wolf he’d known for two days felt like finding home, but he’d give up the surly Okami’s eyes for this lone act of being the kitsune nobody thinks he can be.

“Take off your mask.”

Stiles slipped off the black and red fox mask and let Derek see him in earnest. 

“Don’t put it back on.”

“But –” Stiles began to protest.  If the humans saw his face, he would never again be let into Noshiko’s clan.

“I know.”  Derek said.  “That’s my condition.”

Stiles fingers spasmed around the mask in his grip.  He hated wearing the mask.  But he was truly afraid of letting it go.  He’d known nothing but Noshiko’s rules for so long.  Rules he _chose_ to obey in order to have a family, in order to not be alone.  Stiles let the mask fall from his fingers.

“Anything else?” he asked, eyes locked with Derek’s.

They could hear the fighting from the village edge.  Hunter against hunter wreaking havoc across the village square.  Lighting was pulled from the sky to crash against the ground, never hitting a human but close enough to cause them to scatter momentarily.  A pained howl echoed through the entire valley.

Scott couldn’t kill anyone.  He wouldn’t.  It wasn’t in his nature.  He’d defend to his own death, but he would never kill a human no matter how vile.  Chris, Allison’s father, was more ruthless, but it was still his family he was fighting.  How could he kill his own father and sister?  The other hunters, those not directly in the family bloodline, perhaps Chris got in a kill or two.  Allison as well could cast aside a part of her humanity in order to create necessary deaths.  But the only ones who could end this fight, the only ones who could stop the hunters in their tracks by taking the head of the snake, were Derek and Stiles. 

Stiles wasn’t bound by the rules of a sovereign spirit.  He was a bringer of chaos and destruction, according to the words of those he met.  And Derek, Derek reflected the nature of those he was bound to.  He was still bound to these Argents, these hunters, killers, murderers.  He could kill the killers. 

In the chaos and growing shadows of the afternoon, Stiles slipped behind the old man orchestrating the battle and dropped the darkness around him with a sword to the Chief’s throat. 

“STOP” Stiles yelled, his voice booming over the din of the fighting.  In moments, everyone stood in stunned silence. 

Kate, the blonde hunter, spun on her heel and pulled her bow to aim at him.  Her grip twitched and her jaw fell slack when she saw him without his mask for the first time.  “Void,” she whispered softly. 

“Maybe the rumors are wrong.  Maybe I do have a calling, like the spirits who go where they’re needed.  Maybe I’m here to punish you for your sins,” he smiled darkly.  

“Then do it,” the old man laughed, throat nicking the blade with his movements.  “If you were a killer you would have bled me dry already.”

Sties tightened his grip on the man, but he coldly realized the Chief wasn’t wrong.  Stiles had spent so long trying not to be the devil others saw him as, that he didn’t know if he _could_ be the darkness people were afraid of.

That’s when Derek roared, leaping into the square, claws at the ready as he reached out to Kate.  She was quick.  Her bow was drawn and it only took a quick recalculation to aim it towards the wolf and let go. 

“Derek!” Stiles yelled as the arrow pierced the wolf’s chest.

“YOU SEE!” The old Chief yelled.  “They’re all killers!  They’re here for my family!  They’re here to end us all!”

It didn’t stop Derek as he came down, but Kate’s arrow gave her enough time to dodge the attack.  He spit up some black bile.  With the arrow’s proximity to his heart, Stiles wasn’t sure how long Derek had. 

“Not all,” Stiles whispered into his ear.  “Just you.”  Stiles hadn’t always fought against his nature.  He hadn’t always worked so hard to live against the assumption others made of him.  He had a past he wasn’t always proud of, but this was a new line for him to cross.  He felt a surge inside his chest, a rush of all the things he could consume if only he let the void stretch beyond himself.  He was endless, eternal.  What was the life of one human against all that was a wild fox?

Derek and Kate were fighting, hand to hand and equal footing between her humanity and the poison rapidly spreading in his body.  Everyone else was still, unsure how to continue in their fight.  Stiles had already given up his place with the Kitsunes.  He could give up again and do this next deed.  It wouldn’t matter.

Which is when an arrow pierced the Chief’s heart.

Stiles didn’t take stock of who shot the Chief.  He dropped the body and raced to Derek, slipping into the shadows just long enough to get behind Kate and pull her arms behind her.  He heard a snap and she yelled out in pain.  Stiles tossed her aside after snagging her pack of wolf’s bane.

“Derek.”  The wolf swayed on his feet.  Stiles put a hand on his shoulder and eased him to the ground, burning the purple powder in his other hand.  He carefully filled the arrow wound with it and hoped it would be enough. 

“Stiles,” Derek whispered, blinking up at the fox and coughing up more black bile.  Rain broke from the clouds above them and Stiles could hear Kate yelling at someone behind them, but he wasn’t paying attention.

“I’m not letting you die.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“You deserve so much better than what this land offered you,” Stiles said.  It felt true, the truest thing that reached all the way to the very depths of the void inside him. 

“You’re glowing.”

Stiles frowned.  “What?” He looked at his hand still pressed against Derek’s chest.  He was.  He was glowing faintly, a shimmer around his skin like mist.  Every rain drop that hit him stirred the mist, growing around him. 

“Stiles?” He turned his head to see Kira, Scott clutching her bloody shoulder.  There were tears in her eyes but she was smiling.  “You’re growing a tail.”


	4. The Luck of the Land

They say a Kitsune grows a tail for every hundred years of life and perhaps for some that was true.  Others say a tail was given at times the Kitsune proved themselves worthy of the power that came with it.  Some say a tail shows their strength, their life, their wisdom, their courage.  It was true that a Kitsune with more tails was stronger, swifter, wiser.  Noshiko had nine tails, the leader of a clan.  She was ancient, long past the nine hundred years it took to grow so powerful, if it truly were by years alive.  Few Kitsune lived so long.  Most Kitsune had two or three tails.  Kira had five. 

Stiles didn’t know how old he was.  Years passed differently for creatures who lived so long.  He didn’t believe the growth of a tail was by age, or by worth.  They did not come in such structured intervals, even though he often miscounted the passing of years.  His first tail came before a hundred years had passed.  He knew this because his father was still alive.  Nor did he ever do anything worthy of strength or speed or wisdom. 

His first tail came to him with his mother’s death.  His second with his father’s.  Stiles thought for a while that they grew out of grief and heartbreak.  Or perhaps his body grew stronger as his environment became more dangerous.  He had no one left to protect him that he trusted.  Noshiko had taken him in, but that did not mean he was safe.  But his third tail came when Noshiko brought him into town for the first time since joining the clan.  He had caught a little girl who had fallen from a tree and she thanked him with a kiss to the forehead of his black and red mask.  Stiles was filled with a sense of warmth and purpose, a yearning to be something good despite people’s fears.  His fourth tail came during a fight with some demons who wanted to rid the world of a void such as himself.  His fifth while running with the Delgado pack, enjoying himself among strangers who accepted him despite the color of his mask.  His sixth while protecting Kira from some truly dark spirits they stumbled across in their travels.  His seventh on a cliff, alone, where he was so sick of being a void he almost let the darkness inside swallow him whole.  A new tail came when he didn’t let it.  His eighth tail grew when the sun was shining on his face, mask set beside him in his solitude.  He was happy and alone and nothing even remotely extraordinary was happening.

Never before had there been mist and glow and this sense of fundamental change to his body.  Kitsune tails weren’t visible most of the time.  It was an aura that wrapped around their bodies, their spirit that could manifest into a physical force of power and protection.

Stiles looked up to the mountain, the view from the village the only thing that hadn’t changed in the centuries since he’d lived here.  He remembered his mother, cradling him in her arms as the villagers looked on in suspicion of the kit.  “One day,” she had told him, “you will be the luck of this land.  A nine-tailed black fox is the rarest Kitsune of all.”  His mother only had seven tails.  Stiles always wondered why she thought Stiles would live to see nine.   

Nogitusnes were so rare, Stiles had never met another like himself.  Even Noshiko had known only one other, and it perished with only four tails.  She was always wary when Stiles grew a new tail, tightening her restraints on him, keeping a watchful eye no matter where he went.

Stiles looked back to his hand on Derek’s chest.  The black veins of poison had receded completely.  Derek stared up in open mouthed wonder.  Stiles looked behind him.  Kate with her broken arms was flanked by two new warriors.  The broad man with dark skin held a broad sword to her throat and the woman with hair not unlike Kate’s held a staff of a Priestess, bow slung over her shoulder, and looked at Stiles in contemplation.  She smirked and it seemed both daring and playful. 

Chris had done his job, then. 

The Argents may have had their hand in controlling the Lord of this village and the others in the area, but they weren’t the only family of hunters and exorcists in the area.  While Stiles raced to bring back Derek in an attempt to kill the biggest threats, Chris raced his mare to the Lord’s palace.  

It was pure luck they arrived when they did.  Stiles had met this pair once before, perhaps ten years back.  They were but children then.  Erica’s arrow had pierced the old Chief’s heart and her status as a Priestess meant it was divine by human law, not demonic.  It was an end to the fighting that left no one to be the monster to fear.  It shouldn’t have worked, by all accounts.  The travel should have taken too long.  Stiles’s hand should have been forced with Chris’s father.  He should have slit the old Chief’s throat.  Derek should have clawed Kate to shreds before the Priestess and her bodyguard arrived. 

Stiles caught Chris’s eye where he was attending to his daughter’s wounds.  “They were already on their way,” he said in wonder.

Stiles stood and helped Derek to his feet.  The stray hunters on the other side of the battle had dropped their weapons.  The curly haired man who had stood by Allison’s side rounded up the losing faction.  Kira placed a gentle hand over the one Scott had pressed to her bleeding shoulder.  It was mostly healed when he let go and she raced over to Stiles.

“Look at you,” she cried, wrapping her arms around him.  “You’re not wearing your mask.” 

He held her tentatively, brain still trying to catch up with the new sensation that was his ninth tail. 

“I can’t go back to the clan,” he whispered.

She squeezed him tighter.  When she let go, Kira took off her own mask.  Her eyes flashed like the lightning she commanded.  “Neither can I.  I’m staying here.”

Stiles smiled down at her.  “I’ve always known that.”

“I’m staying, too,” Scott said.  He looked around at the destruction, the injured parties on both sides of the fight.  “There’s a lot of work for me to do here.  I made a promise to that Banshee and I plan to keep it.”  He looked past Stiles to Derek.  “Like it or not, I’m staying.  These people need me.”

Scott didn’t wait for Derek to respond before heading to the nearest injured and beginning treatment.  Stiles turned around to face Derek, who was still staring at Stiles like he was a brand-new creature.

Before Stiles could speak, Erica called his name.  His head whipped around back to her.  If anyone had the power to kill him, the authority for others to listen, it was a Priestess like Erica.

When they had first met, and Erica was but a child, she fell into a fit, body spasming and eyes rolling into the back of her head.  It wasn’t her first fit and it wouldn’t be her last.  She was the gem of the Lord north of the five rivers for her foresight.  She had told Stiles he was cute.  Stiles countered by saying Erica had never seen his face.  She only smiled. 

“I told you that you were cute,” Erica said as she sauntered over. 

“What are you doing so far south?” he asked.

“My Lord’s daughter is marrying the son of this Lord.  I’ve been visiting to oversee the wedding.  I had a fit this morning and I knew I had to come.”

Stiles looked around the square and thought of all the pieces that had to come together for this to end the way it did.  Kira felt her calling, Scott spoke with a Banshee, Erica was deployed south.  It could have ended so much worse.  Kira couldn’t have survived without these others.  Or, perhaps she might have, but Stiles would have had to let the void stretch out so far, he’d never see her again.  Without their help, Allison would have lost.  The villagers would have lived in greater fear than before, the Lord would be none the wiser that he was being manipulated by his own team of hunters.  He would listen to Erica’s word on the matter.

She tapped his forehead lightly.  “Your eyes are like stars in the night and the rising sun.  All that power, that vastness.  I understand why people would be afraid.” She smirked.  “You can go anywhere in the world if you’d like, now.”

Stiles frowned.  “What do you mean?”

“We can all see you for who you are now.”  She gestured down to the misty glow still clinging to his body.  He looked behind him and all nine tails danced around him like a fan of white fire.  “You’ll bring good fortune wherever you go.”

Stiles immediately turned to look at Derek.  Kira had found her home, the rain she brought would wash away the blood and soot and cleanse the village of the evil that had rotted it from within.  Scott had found his home, a place to finally settle and protect and _heal_.  Allison would become Chief and she would rebuild with those loyal to protecting by her side. 

And Stiles was free, he could feel it in his bones.  He no longer needed a mask to hide behind or a clan to keep him safe.  His ninth tail meant he was what Erica said, what his mother said all those centuries ago.  The void inside him was still vast and endless, but it was filled with something more powerful than the curse of his birth. 

“Will you come with me?” Stiles asked.  Stiles was free, but Derek was still trapped.  The mountain was his home; it was the place his family lived and died.  Derek had known no other life.  He was bound to this village the way Kira chose to be, the way Scott chose to be.  “The land has new sovereigns.  You don’t have to stay here.”

Derek could let go, he could be free, but only if he let himself.  

“Foxes and wolves don’t get along,” Derek reminded him softly, ducking his head as he realized how many sets of eyes were on him.  Stiles wondered how long it had been since Derek had been seen by any human who wasn’t out for his blood. 

“My mother loved your family,” Stiles replied.  “We were both born of this land, Derek.  We’re both children of protectors who cannot protect.  If you stay, you’ll only end up fighting with Scott.  The village will continue to see you as a looming spirit, an omen of bad things to come, something to be afraid of.  But if you come with me, we can find a fresh start, together.”

Stiles couldn’t explain why it felt so right to be asking this of Derek.  Ever since he met the wolf, Stiles was oddly attracted to him.  A pull so visceral that he couldn’t fathom letting go now.  The sun was setting and Stiles realized they had only known each other for a single rotation.  A full circle of the sun and the moon, a fox and a wolf. 

Stiles tuned into the world around him.  Erica’s bodyguard led Kate away with word that she would be executed properly, while Erica joined Allison, Scott, and Kira to help the injured.  Chris worked with the tall, curly haired man with the defeated faction of Argent hunters.  Most had been escorted away to the village jail to be dealt with in the morning.  Some villagers were poking their heads out, the quiet getting their attention.  It was safe again.  Chris told them everything would be explained in the morning.  It was late.  People should be getting home. 

Prying eyes had left Stiles and Derek, whether by design or not, Stiles couldn’t be sure.  He felt when people looked his way, little gasps of awe leaving their bodies, as if he were gracing them with something precious just by standing there.  But their eyes never strayed long.

Stiles stepped closer to Derek and willed him to look up.  Derek placed a hand over his chest, just above the heart where the arrow had struck.  “I feel as if you changed something in me,” Derek admitted.  “I feel lighter than I have in ages.”  He looked up just then, catching Stiles’s gaze. 

Perhaps they were all wrong, and Stiles really did have a calling.  Not to punish humans for their sins as he had declared not too long ago, but this moment right here.  He followed Kira back to his place of birth only to find another like him, another cast aside from this land and lost without a family.  And as Stiles grew his final tail, he may have healed the Okami of the darkness that had been festering inside of him, sucking it into the endless void that Stiles carried with him always, and replacing it with light.

“Will you come with me?” Stiles asked again, placing a hand over Derek’s.  He could feel the warmth of the wolf like it were his own spark. 

Tension melted away from Derek’s shoulders and the red from his eyes bled away to show the soft blue hidden underneath.  “I don’t need to be an alpha anymore.  Not without a land to call my own.”

Stiles felt as if light burst inside his chest.  A smile spread across his face until his cheeks hurt.  He twisted his hand with Derek’s, holding it between them.  “Let’s go then.”

Derek frowned.  “Don’t you need to say goodbye?”

Stiles looked over to where Kira was speaking to Scott.  She tripped over some fallen stone and laughed.  Stiles shook his head.  “This entire trip was our goodbye.  We parted ways the moment she took off her mask.”  Stiles stepped away from Derek and tugged his hand to follow.  “We have been friends for a great many years,” he told Derek.  “So, I suppose I’ll come back and visit sometime.”

Derek smiled down at their joined hands.  “And where will we go?”

“Go?” Stiles asked, heading away from the village, away from the mountain, away from their place of creation and transformation, “I’ve been many places.  How about you decide?”

Stiles and Derek walked towards the setting sun, his nine tails shimmering in and out of visible sight as the shadows grew longer. 

Sometimes Derek would react to something that wasn’t there, and Stiles would laugh, and Derek could grab his tail straight out of the air.  Sometimes they walked in shadows together, but other times Stiles would step into the light and let himself be seen, and those who caught sight of his nine tails, shimmering like moonbeams and sunlight twisted into one, would know they had crossed a powerful spirit, and they had been blessed.

But mostly, the only eyes Stiles cared about were the shining blue ones Derek cast his way.  And Derek, too, knew he was blessed.  Stiles never let Derek forget how lucky they were to have found each other.  How lucky Derek was to have found a guiding light out of his despair, and how lucky Stiles was to have found a home.   

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> [FIND ME ON TUMBLR](http://www.inthearmsofathief.tumblr.com)
> 
> Also! I'm made a webseries about werewolves! [The Werewolf Diaries](http://www.youtube.com/c/amyberserk)


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